River What?
by bobbymcfoogle
Summary: Rose and the Doctor, content with life in the alt. universe talk about River Song. How does this affect their love? Pure 10.5/Rose fluff with a little drama. Saucy stuff in chapter 3 for which I give my apologies! Please read and tell me what you think.
1. Chapter 1

**I was thinking … would the Human Doctor ever brave the subject of River Song with Rose, even after they have found happiness in the alt. universe? Here's how it might've happened … **

**I don't own Dr. Who.**

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It was crisp, chilly early evening in the grounds of the Tyler Mansion. The sun hung robustly in the cobalt sky, reaching to even the farthest and most remote nooks and crannies of the estate and the cascading autumn leaves created patterns and swirls of gold, auburn and ochre on the faded green lawn. Rose and the Doctor, alias John Smith, were taking a languid stroll through the lower garden, conversing at ease about such matters as couples do when they have been living together for well over eighteen months. That night was the night that Pete had arranged for Jackie's birthday party to be held, and preparations up in the main house were well underway. The couple had sought sanctity from the frenetic hustle and bustle in the great outdoors of their home. Rose, infatuated with her Doctor even after their life together had been going on so long that it was technically "normality", would repeatedly look up at his face, eyes shining bright with an ear-splitting grin. She could talk with him for hours, listening to all the fantastic stories and tales he had acquired over the years and she revelled in his intelligence and interest. Even with his beyond-human mind, however, she always felt that he treated her as an equal – even though occasionally she found him patronising when it came to scientific or historical matters that she had little comparative awareness of, she knew that she could be condescending and superior when he was behaving densely about moral or diplomatic issues. Thus, it was that they never grew tired or weary of one another's company.

Today, the topic of discussion had reached slightly dangerous waters, however: Rose's previous lovers. Although there was absolutely no disparity whatsoever in the couple's opinions about their relationship, in that this was for life and neither would _ever_ think of leaving the other, they had somehow reached this precarious theme and the Doctor was more than a little interested to find out about Rose's experiences, especially now that he was definitely on that list, even if a slightly more permanent fixture.

"Well … obviously there was Mickey. First love at fourteen. We were on and off, I guess, until just after my GCSEs. Then … well, you know the rest. You came along!"

The Doctor grinned mischievously and squeezed her hand a little tighter. "Is that it? Only Mickey the Idiot as a predecessor to yours truly?"

Rose smiled in mock anger, before saying, irritatedly, "Come on, surely you know by now he wasn't an idiot! He might have been slightly … inept," the Doctor snorted at this, "before you came along, but he's practically a genius now!"

"Oh, that's a bit excessive!"

"No, he is! He was really amazing with the technology and all that at Torchwood – the one on Old Earth'll be seriously benefiting!"

"Hmm …" Inspite of the Doctor's words, he was only teasing her. He knew more than anyone that Mickey was gullible to the extreme, but it was paired not only with computer intelligence but bravery and courage far beyond that which most ordinary people possessed. He also admired the fact that he, like Rose, was proof of this "ordinary people" passion of his; that they too could become brilliant and had the resources and valour to do what was right, if only they could realise it.

"So, that's it then? A beautiful woman as yourself only has one other person on her list of boyfriends?"

"Well … there was Jimmy Stone."

"Oh yes?" This was news to the Doctor. Even though they had spent a full two years together on the TARDIS, they had never reached this man in a conversation.

"I was sixteen … he was twenty. A musician, guitarist to be exact – completely irresistible! He had curly blond hair and an earring – most unsuitable! It ended in tears for him, and me eight hundred pounds in debt. _That_ took a lot of explaining to mum!" The Doctor looked agog – he thought he was the only 'older man' his wife had ever loved! Well, being just under nine hundred years older than her, he thought he beat this 'Jimmy's' puny four years seniority, but still!

"So you've a fetish for the older man, then?"

"Oh, shut up! Besides, you're one to talk! Surely every woman you've been romantically involved with was at least a few centuries younger than you? Except -"

Rose stopped herself before she could put her foot in it. She found it hard to banter about the Doctor's romances; she knew he'd had a family, children, a wife back on Gallifrey, so she also knew that this must be a tender subject; he had lost them all and she felt that this was slightly heavy conversation for the morning. In addition, she didn't want to spoil or ruin the cocoon of bliss they had created for themselves by dragging up ghosts from the past. By 'younger women' Rose had simply meant that all of the Doctor's love interests had been technically so much younger than he – take Reinette, for example; that had started when she was a child! Fair enough, the Doctor was no paedophile and he hadn't loved her until she was much older, but even then she was hundreds of years younger than him. Clearly, Rose understood that he wasn't some sick sugar-daddy (for want of a better phrase), exchanging life experience instead of money and gifts. Yet, again Rose found that the subject of the Doctor's love life was even more of an open wound – his knack for regeneration had meant that he'd outlived most of the people he'd loved (take Reinette, for instance) and she knew it had hurt him a great deal. Nevertheless, it was moments like this that made her all the more glad that he was now part human and able to age.

"Well, I guess I'm just young at heart!" the Doctor joked, resolving the situation. They walked a little more in comfortable silence, before reaching the yew tree that they often came to on walks like these. It was an epic, twenty-foot monstrosity with knotted branches and a swollen trunk. There was a smooth, curving branch that hung a metre above the ground, which they found made a comfortable bench when in need of a rest on such a walk. The Doctor grabbed hold of Rose's waist and scooped her up so that she could sit on the branch (he enjoyed gentlemanly gestures such as this, being a fan of the 'white knight' approach to courtesy) and let his hands linger on her stomach and trail down to her belt before leaning in to kiss her. She more than happily obliged, parting her soft lips and they remained in this embrace for a few minutes. Her hands swept through his thick, brown hair and she succumbed to her usual habit of fisting his locks that she cared for so much. They paused in their clinch and she smiled, happy as always to be doing this. He took a step backwards and moved to her left, before leaping onto the branch beside her, swinging one leg over the other side so he was facing her. She turned to him, still grinning. After a few moments she looked up through the dark tangles of the tree to the cerulean heavens and sighed. There were flashes like this when she could easily become philosophical; when she stared into the firmament above, the imprint that her travels with the Doctor had left upon her became even more obvious and she could get lost in thought. Then a thought struck her, and she pondered upon how to vocalise it. A compression of her hand brought her back to Earth.

"You okay?"

"Yeah … I was just thinking …"

"Thinking what?" His tone was sympathetic and caring, not at all urgent or insistent.

"While I was away – here, I mean - was there anyone else?" Her brown eyes bored into his, burning for an answer.

"Never." He didn't even pause. When she had gone, the idea that he could ever love again, or at least love in the way he had her had never occurred to him. He had been haunted by her memory everywhere he had been; every situation, victory, friendship, triumph or disaster had brought back images of her, making it an impossibility for him to find someone new or even contemplate moving on. He'd had a brief spell when he thought he could have come to love Astrid, but in retrospect he realised that this was simply because she reminded him so much of Rose. Although she was an individual in herself and an admirable, brave and beautiful one at that, he'd felt an immediate pang of fondness and familiarity for her, for all that she represented and how much she reminded him of his now wife.

Rose was also lost in a semi melancholy. Inspite of the fact that she was thrilled she had remained in his heart, it filled her with sadness and heartbreak to think that he had wandered the universe in intimate isolation. She knew he'd in turn had Martha and Donna, but neither of them seemed to have given him the same type of affection as that which they themselves had shared and it broke her heart to think that he had been as lonely as she was. It broke her heart to think he was _still _like that.

"Do you think you'll ever find someone? You know, in the other universe?"

The Doctor paused, unable to think about how he could phrase this. Taking both of her hands in his, he looked her straight in the eye and said, "There's something I haven't told you." Seeing her face, he hastened, "No, it's nothing like that. It's just I have an inkling about what will happen in the future. Don't worry, it's a long, long time away from where you left me behind, but I know that there is someone who will come along. Our timelines accidentally crossed – I met her in a library and she knew me. She knew about what happened to Donna. I had no clue as to who she was; she knew me, apparently intimately, and she told me that one day she would come to mean a lot to me. She didn't recognise me immediately; I suspect it will happen long after I regenerate from how I am now. But, I suppose, I think we might be lovers in my future."

Rose let go of his hands and had to turn away. She knew that she couldn't expect the Doctor, the Time Lord version back in their old world, to go on pining after her forever; she knew he wouldn't be dwelling on her too much now that she was safe and happy with him as a human, but it still hurt to hear concrete evidence of his moving on. She covered her nose and mouth with the palms of her hands and stared blankly, straight ahead of her.

"Listen, Rose – it's not that simple. I – "

"I think I need to help out for tonight. Y'know, get ready and all." Her voice broke and she jumped down off the branch, not caring that her jeans were in danger of grass stains and that her pumps had already fallen prey to the danger of muddy puddles and walked towards the main steps leading up to the house.

"Rose, wait!" His tenor was demanding, attempting to make her stay. With this, she broke into a jog and then a sprint, until she disappeared behind the row of trees signifying the walkway to the main entrance, until she had slipped inside the great oak doors.

The Doctor stood next to the yew and cursed under his breath (another habit that he'd acquired since becoming human). He looked off into the corn field that lay just beyond the garden, wondering how on Earth he could make this right.

--

**Ooh, controversial. Only one or two more chapters - I think this works best if it isn't _too_ long ... please tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

It was eight o'clock and the guests were arriving in the grand, gilded hall downstairs. Jackie and Pete Tyler, Tony in arms, were greeting them, minus the presence of Rose and 'John'. Upstairs, Rose, wearing a scarlet cocktail dress, sat at the dressing table applying matching lipstick. Her diamond earrings (genuine, as opposed to the diamante gems she used to wear on the Powell Estate) glittered luminescently like enormous teardrops hanging from her earlobes. Nevertheless, Rose's expression was far from glittering; she looked sombre and tired, her mind was in tumult over the conversation with the Doctor only hours before. He was in the adjoining bathroom – he had put on jet-black, smart trousers and was in the process of buttoning up his whiter-than-white crisp shirt, having just slapped on some aftershave. The atmosphere in the room was tense; mere hours prior to now, the couple had had one of their first serious arguments. Things hadn't quite reached boiling point, but they both feared the potential of the strife that this 'the other woman' business could cause.

When Rose had run off earlier, too upset and confused to work things out there and then, the Doctor had let her, understanding that she might need a little time to cool down. He'd remained outside another half an hour before braving going indoors where he'd helped Jackie lay the table in the dining hall. It had proven quite a task – the table was one of the longest he'd seen and that was saying something – and Jackie had been more than suspicious of his good will. He'd then mustered up the courage to go up to his and Rose's room, where he tentatively asked her how she was doing. "Fine," had been her response. When he pressed the matter, she had merely responded, "Look, I don't want to talk about it right now, okay?" During his time in the alternative universe, the Doctor had learnt that when a woman said she was 'fine', she was really anything but, but even so, there was nothing he could do at present and he made the executive choice to follow her word and leave the matter until after the party.

The Doctor strolled out of the bathroom door, leaving behind its gleaming splendour for the frosty atmosphere of the bedroom. He was far from used to the tense, uncomfortable feeling in this room, as it was one where they had shared some of their most intimate moments. He could recall a night only a few weeks ago when having made love, they had spent the entire night awake, curled together like two spoons and talking about whatever they'd wanted to; it was _quite_ a different matter tonight. Seeing Rose was far from ready (it still puzzled him how she managed to look perfectly beautiful during the day, yet it still took her forever to apply evening make-up), he flopped down on the bed with a great deal of noise and exhalation. Rose looked at him through the reflection in the mirror and scowled. Even though she was angry, and this was far from a joke, he couldn't help but think of how adorable she looked when mad. She'd simmered from when she was upset earlier; it wasn't at all sweet when she was on the verge of tears, when her emotion was sadness mingled with whatever else, for then things were far too serious and he hated hurting her – he'd had to do so so many times before and it always wounded him in return. No, he found Rose's temper, when it had reached the level of pure annoyance and irritation really quite amusing, especially when the muscles in her temples started twitching involuntarily. It was one of those little endearments he loved so much; like how she curled down her socks in bed, or when she collected spare safety pins in a string, and would pin said string to a cushion or the curtains in order to use them again, then promptly lose the string. It rivalled her inability to complete Su Dokus or the way she stuck out her tongue when deep in the concentration of filling out paperwork for Torchwood. A few minutes after this absorption in thought, he was awakened by Rose standing up, smoothing out her skirts and saying, "Ready?" Still lying there, head propped up on a pillow and chin lolling on his chest, he surveyed her. The flared skirt of the dress flattered her curves and the deep red brought out the colour of her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. Her hair, curling in natural waves, was secured in a loose bun at the side of her neck with a large, white flower. She stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for him to get up. He, however, was staring at her, mouth slightly open.

"Hello?" He snapped his jaw shut, before rolling on to his side and getting up, putting on his tuxedo jacket.

"You look really … beautiful." He tried to convey in his voice the sincerity of his love and moved forward, preparing to kiss her. But she turned away to open the door, saying, "Don't you dare spoil my makeup!" She tried to cover her still hurt feelings with a laugh, but felt like she wore a mask. She turned out of the door and they walked along the corridor and down the wine coloured carpet of the stairs together, her clutching the gold banister and him linking his arm through hers for moral support. Being 'new' to this world, an identity gained through the one that Torchwood had given (they had the power to 'create' people – they'd given him a passport, birth certificate; everything he needed to be legally 'human'), he sometimes felt nervous at these events. He'd never been so self-conscious of his eccentricity until he had become human and then been able to see how others viewed him, and found that (as a human), he actually cared a great deal about what they all thought. Nevertheless, he felt he could rely on his natural charm and wit and had so far proved popular among the esteemed company the Tylers kept.

Seeing the couple's arrival Jackie, looking slightly over-the-top in a sparkling, purple floor-length gown hurried over to them, berating, "There you are! Finally – everyone's in the ballroom - nibbles and drinks and all that. Hurry!"

--

An hour later and they were settling into the routine of the actual dinner. Guests were filling the dining hall and seating themselves at their allocated places along the lustrous, polished mahogany table. The cutlery sparkled and gleamed and the champagne flowed. The Doctor, seeing his name on a little folded white card at a seat towards the head of the table next to another engraved, 'Rose Tyler', indicated to her where they were sitting by putting a hand protectively on the small of her back and guiding her over. She had been notably civil to him all evening, laughing (a little too politely) at his jokes, even if she had been spending less time with him than she usually did at such a function. He held out her chair for her and waited until she was seated, before sitting down himself. His arm loitered on the back of her chair for most of the meal in an attempt to show to her even through the smallest of gestures that he loved her. The meal was occupied by small talk and current affairs; the controversy of the newly elected female prime minister (many of the guests were glad that she couldn't make the evening, as it would have spoiled their gossip), the trade blocs between Russia and South America, how the price of zeppelin fuel had risen extortionately. The Doctor took it upon himself to lean over to Rose, under the distraction of the other guests due to a party trick involving some grapes by the prince of Denmark, and whispered in her ear, "I really am sorry, you know - for earlier. I promise I'll explain everything later. It's not how you think." She smiled her melancholy smile and gave his hand a little squeeze.

"Okay." She seemed to mean it, as her face relaxed slightly; her whole outlook seemed to improve in that one facial expression.

He gave her back a small stroke and was glad to feel that she didn't tense it like she did earlier, and let his hand rest there for the rest of the time at the table. Looking around, he noted as always the waiters and waitresses. He would always remember the evening when he and Rose had attended another of a different Jackie Tyler's famous birthday parties in this very mansion, years before now. Rose had been one of the waitresses, whereas he had acted the guest. He saw her looking at them in a similar way, and nudged her, saying, "Remember? How long ago was it – three or four years?"

"Cor … for me it must be about – I don't know. Four and a half at the least!"

"Huh!" They'd had to get used to this, the time difference. Somehow the alternative universes were slightly out of sync with each other; they couldn't really tell whose timeline had been ahead when they'd been reunited, so it was differences like this that gave them some indication.

Soon the tables were cleared and the guests were led through to the ballroom, where a jazz quartet were resuming play and Jackie was attempting to lead the others in dance. "Oh God …" the Doctor groaned, at which Rose stifled a giggle. They stood in the doorway, just out of sight.

"Well, it's decision time. We can stay and – dance, like _that –_" he indicated a fat woman in a gold number that made her look like a seal in a condom, "or cut and run. Whaddaya say?" He winked at her and she couldn't resist grinning this time.

"I say - cut and run every time."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out on to the patio. The moon shone down through the assembling clouds, lighting up the area otherwise surrounded by wisteria and vines. The music could be heard on the wind, carrying through from the hall just metres away; but they were hidden and safe. Private. He twirled her around by the hand, before holding her waist and leading her in some form of improvised dancing.

"I thought you said you didn't want to dance!" Rose accused.

"I didn't – just not like them!" He laughed; "I wanted you all to myself …" he drew out the last three words before holding her close, then pulling back slightly before leaning in to kiss her, thankful that this time she succumbed. Perhaps she'd drunk enough wine to forget earlier? He carried on kissing her in this way for several minutes, not wanting to draw breath. His tongue slid along hers and she sighed slightly against him, causing him to hold her tightly and kiss her with more fervour, to which she gladly responded. He hadn't been prepared for this; this sudden increase in libido from when he turned human had been something he'd never really experienced as a Time Lord. Until a year and a half ago, he had valued emotional bonds above all else and thought them enough within themselves … now, he wasn't so sure. Of course, he still cherished them, but if he ever had to give up sex with his wife, he would _definitely_ have something to say about it – sometimes he was so full of lust and longing for the woman he loved it was all he could do not to grab her and drag her up to their room. Naturally, he had a lot of self-control so things never came to this, but that didn't mean he often didn't want to.

They continued in this way for a little while longer, until Pete arrived on the scene and gave the Doctor a little ticking off for "bunking off" from the party. They were led like two naughty schoolchildren into the ballroom where Jackie was tapping on a crystal champagne glass, preparing to give a speech. The Doctor sighed to himself, at which point Rose stifled another giggle. It seemed that all really _was_ well between them right now … but he was mentally preparing a speech of his own for later, that had the potential to bring it all crashing down again.

--

**Sorry for the poor ending – probably one more chapter to go. Please leave a review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Penultimate part! ****Do**** enjoy and tell me what you think. **_**Slightly**_** more racy than the previous chapters, so this is the reason for the 'T' rating. **

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They walked back through the gilded hall, up the wine coloured carpet, along the corridor and into their bedroom. Rose leaned slightly on the Doctor's shoulders, adamant she had done something to her ankle when he swung her back somewhat enthusiastically during the dancing with the rest of the party in the ballroom, and he carried her black high heels in the hand not supporting her. They burst violently into their bedroom and he switched on the lights. The moon twinkled knowingly through the window, clashing in its sapphirity with the golden glow of the lamps. She collapsed in the chintz armchair in the corner of the room, facing the grand four-poster bed and rubbed her heel.

"I don't care what you say, there's something wrong with it." She groaned and propped it up on the transparent, glass coffee table, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes.

"Oh … stop being so pedantic. I'll believe you if it still hurts in the morning."

"Doctor, it _is_ the morning. And it still hurts."

He puffed out his cheeks in sham exasperation and, undoing the top buttons of his shirt, pulled of his dinner jacket. As he took off his watch and cuff links, checking that it _was _after midnight and Rose limped (completely genuinely, of course) through to the bathroom, where she proceeded to take off her jewellery. She got to unclasping the flower from her hair when he crept up behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder, making a face at her in the reflection of the mirror. Laughing, she turned and hugged him. "I _am_ sorry for earlier …"

"Don't be. I should have told you before – there've been so many times when I could've … I guess I just didn't think it was worth spoiling what we've got." He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. The substantial amount of wine she had drunk throughout the course of the evening made her feel as though this heavy conversation could wait until later and she pulled his chin down so their mouths met and kissed him far more vigorously, her hands trailing down his stomach to his belt. She started to slip her fingers further south below the fabric, eliciting a groan of passion from the Doctor's lips. He swung her up so that she was sitting on the counter of the basin and began to trace the muscles of her neck up from her collarbone with his lips. She sighed, shivering with delight, which was increased as his hands moved from the creases behind her knees, up her legs and to her inner thighs. Her hands had been forced to resume a position around his waist but they slid downwards as she caressed the top of his bottom and then further. His hands, however, were wandering even more perilously close to the area between her legs, causing her to gasp in anticipation. Every time he came close, however, he would then move swiftly away, leading to groans of frustration from his wife.

"Please – I want you – I want to make love to you … why won't you …" Rose's eagerness was getting to be too much and she was breathless; after the excitement of the day, she needed some corporeal expression of love from the Doctor.

"Because, Rose Tyler, you have been keeping me like a kept man."

"What? You initiated this, tonight …"

"I do believe you were the one who transformed my chaste peck into something slightly more … lascivious. And what do I get in return? A temper like a supernova."

"Well, I hardly …" she spluttered. "Please?"

"Not until you say you're sorry."

"For what?!"

"For treating me like a kept man! I'm not your play thing, Rose …" Sometimes the Doctor's teasing really could be too much for her, and she pulled him once again into a passionate embrace. "Are … you … sorry … yet?" He managed to say, between kisses.

"Nope." She replied, continuing to kiss him.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to go to sleep, then …" He pulled away and walked back through to the bedroom, followed keenly by Rose, who clasped his hands and pulled him down onto the bed, ever frantic to continue their kissing. He was momentarily distracted from his game, but managed to pull himself together and pushed her gently away. She reached for his hands again, but he was not letting go of his charade, and continued to protest in mock offence. "Just say you're sorry!"

"Well, I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for loving you, nor will I ever be." She stopped trying to reach for him and sat back against her pillow, looking far more serious this time. The Doctor took a moment before looking at her; sometimes, this was too much. This wholehearted, even-sided, deep, true love scared him and he had to take moments out just to remember that they weren't the only people in the world. With this done, he then turned back to her, took her in his arms and _showed_ her, rather than told her, what his answer to this statement was.

--

Satiated with love yet not each other, for they never quite were, they lay in bed side by side, clothes disregarded and curled up together. Their steady breathing filled the otherwise silent night and he stroked her golden hair with the tips of his tall, thin fingers. Sighing, she turned over and cupped his jaw with the palm of her hands and gave him a warm, gentle, anti-climactic kiss. Lying together, connected by their entwined feet, they made the shape of an upside-down teardrop.

"So … are we going to talk about it, then?" Rose finally broke the comfortable peace.

"What's there to talk about? It was clearly good for you, by the sound of the noises you were making, and I enjoyed it myself rather, if I'm honest."

"No, you fool. That woman … the one you're going to be … canoodling with in the future."

"Oh." A pause. "What do you want to know?" She gave him an incredulous look. "Right … I'll take that as everything. Well, I guess I'll start at the beginning. _My_ beginning, I mean. I'm not quite sure how you define the time in this …"

--

**Not quite sure if "sapphirity" is a word, but ...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Final. I might have improvised slightly with all the **_**Forest of the Dead**_** and **_**Silence in the Library**_** details, but they're what I **_**think **_**I remember having seen …**

--

"Donna and I were just there, in the TARDIS; I think we were playing Scrabble or something. We were planning to go to the beach – not your average, Weston-Super-Mare mud pit, but this amazing one on the planet Kondo where you can _actually walk on the water …_ Anyway, I digress. So, I check to see if I've got the good old sonic screwdriver and psychic paper, just in case they've implemented the health and safety restrictions they always said they would when it comes to the electric starfish and we need to get past them, and I see a message on the psychic paper. It told me to get to the Library and was signed off with three kisses, as Donna didn't hesitate to notice. So we get to this Library – it's an entire planet, just known as 'The Library' containing all of the books ever written; my paradise, you might think. It's really quite amazing; I wish I could have taken you there – it houses every single person's biography, so it's pretty dangerous if you're visiting it from the past, but phwoar! – Are _there_ some fascinating reads and spectacular views!

"Any-who, we find that it's completely devoid of humanoid life, but the Library system's computers were claiming that there were a million million life forms present; a little spooky. So, we're looking around for clues as to what the _heck_ is going on, and this Library assistant-thing tells us to 'count the shadows'. It was all very ambiguous ... Soon enough, this group of people turn up in white space suits; a group of explorers, they say they are, led by a woman, an archaeologist in her early forties I'd guess, called Professor River Song. They're there to also find out what's happening.

"So, River Song comes up to me and greets me, saying, 'Hello sweetie!' I was more than a little peeved to be being called 'sweetie', and when she sees I haven't a bloody clue who she is, she gets out this diary that looks, really, like a book form of the TARDIS. She starts checking with me whether we've been to all these places, Ascot and stuff, and then she says I'm the youngest she's ever seen me. I know; _I'm not young!_ But she says that quite a lot, and it becomes apparent that we're rather close at some point; so much so, that she eventually reveals to me that I have given her my sonic screwdriver. She comforts me, saying: 'Don't worry, I didn't pluck it out of your cold, dead hands.' To be honest, that's what I _was_ thinking, but I don't let her know. To cut a long story short, the general spookiness of this Library is revealed in the form of these Vashta Nerada creatures; they create shadows and hide in them, in order to devour flesh – uh, I'll explain another time.

"But, throughout this whole time, River Song is claiming that we're very close in my relative future; and she won't stop berating my supposed 'youth'. I was finding it an impossible thought, but then she does something that makes me realise she's not just playing some elaborate trick on me. Do you remember, the night we married, I finally told you what my name is? I know that there'd been a slight aura of mystery around it, and as you know, I will only tell someone my name, bestowed on me at birth by my parents, if and when I marry them, just as I did you.

"She comes up to me, and whispers it in my ear. Well, I can tell you – _that_ shocked me. So, all I can deduce from this is that at some point in my distant future, we meet and this leads to our marriage."

--

Rose lay there, stunned. How could the Doctor marry someone in the future? This _River Song_ was clearly human … the main comfort as to why she'd been left in the alternate universe had been that the Doctor (as in, _her _Doctor – the human one) had told her that he knew it was too dangerous for her to stay with him, especially after Davros had revealed his soul, showing how those who travel with him are followed by death. So why was this woman worth that threat, when she, Rose, hadn't been?

The Doctor, seeing the marks of anxiety and confusion etched on her face, propped himself up on one of his elbows and, with the other hand, leaned over and stroked her shoulder. "Hey …" he soothed. She jerked away from him, not altogether rudely, but understandably enough with some slight sadness.

"You … you wouldn't have married me, if I'd …" If she'd stayed back on that world, was how she wanted to finish that sentence. The Doctor understood. "It's only because you're – _human_ – that we've …" She trailed off again. "You hardly had any choice, once you were stuck …"

"No, no – Rose, it isn't that at all. If I hadn't turned human, there would have been just one of me; and I can assure you, if I had not had this alternative, you would have been with me forever. And I _would_ have told you my name. She looked at him, dead on, right in the eyes. She was smiling, but it was the smile of a disguise, unnaturally wide and her eyes deceived her; they were abnormally bright with unspilled tears. "And besides, this is the best possible way things could have worked out for me. Sure, sometimes I miss the TARDIS, and travelling was amazing; I'm gutted I never got to say goodbye to Donna, but this –" he held her hand with ferocious tightness, "_this_ is worth so much more than all of that. I would never in a million years have chosen to be the half of me that stayed back there." The tears were still there, only now they had made faint silver tracks down her glowing cheeks. "Besides, knowing how I feel now, do you think the old me is _happy_ not to have you back in that world? It killed the old me to watch you kissing me, knowing it would never be him. I think that I will have learnt from my mistakes, and will know never to let go of love again, inspite of the consequences."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I think that if this whole getting-you-back then letting-you-go-again experience taught me anything, it's that human love; real, _real_, deep love, rooted further than non-platonic attraction, is one of the greatest treasures in the universe and should _not_, under any circumstances, be let go. As I've explained to you time and time again, the only reason I _did_ let you go, is because there were two of me; one of whom was human. In this form, I'm able to tell you I love you, age at the same time as you, live a _real_ life, which I just wasn't able to in the form in which you last saw me. With River, I will realise that there is no perfect solution; I'll remember how much pain I felt giving you up, even if it was the only, selfless choice, and I'll realise that my pain threshold has reached saturation point; my second heart would break. Yes, I do believe that my first heart, even as a Time Lord, still belongs to you and it always will do. But the point is that in loving and losing you, I'll have experienced so much pain that I won't be able to do it a second time." By this time, their faces had become perilously close to each other. "Not to mention, it doesn't even bother me in the slightest that _this _me will never meet her; because I've got you! Moreover, it was apparent that we don't end up living together, like we do now - so I really have given it all to you! Besides, you'll be a very tough act to follow; no one could ever compare to you and, moreover, you know how I feel about archaeologists! I won't be falling in love with her easily. And do you know what? I think you'd have liked her. You shouldn't feel _any_ resentment towards her; I reckon she'll have had to deal with a lot of my ghosts where you're concerned when I finally do meet her!"

Rose, taking in what he had said, realised he was right; as always. No matter how much she loved him, she wanted the Doctor to be happy. Sure, she was making one part of him happy right now, but there was still another side to him that needed affection, companionship. And as much as it hurt her to think there was someone who he _would_ be prepared to be vulnerable for, she knew that he'd chosen her first, and nothing could undo that. For, although some events in time and space hung loosely, susceptible to influence from rogue travellers such as they once were, she knew that the love which she shared with the Doctor – _both_ sides of him – was something more powerful and incredible than anything else she had ever witnessed in all her life. It was with this thought that she leaned over and kissed him encompassing in that kiss all of the love she had felt for him in the entire time she had known him.

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**The End.**

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**So … what did you think? Quite cheesy, yes, but tell me anyway!**


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